HOnest man John Ochiltree;
Mine ain auld John Ochiltree,
Wilt thou come o’er the moor to me,
And dance as thou was wont to do.
Alake, alake! I wont to do!
Obon, Obon! I wont to do!
Now wont to do’s away frae me,
Frae filly auld John Ochiltree.
Honest man John Ochiltree,
Mine ain auld John Ochiltree;
Come anes out o’er the moor to me,
And do but what thou dow to do.
Alake, alake! I dow to do!
Walaways! I dow to do!
To whost and hirple o’er my tree,
My bony moor-powt is a’ I may do.
Walaways John Ochiltree,
For mony a time I tell’d to thee,
Thou rade sae fast by sea and land,
And wadna keep a bridle hand;
Thou’d tine the beast, thy sell wad die,
My silly auld John Ochiltree.
Come to my arms, my bony thing,
And chear me up to hear thee sing;
And tell me o’er a’ we hae done,
For thoughts maun now my life sustain.
Gae thy ways John Ochiltree:
Hae done! it has nae sa’r wi’ me.
I’ll set the beast in throw the land,
She’ll may be fa’ in a better hand.
Even sit thou there, and think thy fill,
For I’ll do as I wont to do still.
– Old Songs.